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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#246551voted by our readers
By animeshpradhan GOLD
Faridabad, Other
A strong gust of wind blows my way, I feel the dear fog behind me clear As all the flowers in the fields ahead Wither away; a new seed is born.
Faridabad, Other
A strong gust of wind blows my way, I feel the dear fog behind me clear As all the flowers in the fields ahead Wither away; a new seed is born.